


The love that makes undaunted, the final sacrifice

by MissIves



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: (I swear I tried), (or maybe not), Arya digging socialism!, F/M, Featuring, Gendry digging French 75 cocktails!, class issues!, dancing in old timey pubs!, extremely inaccurate nursing!, extremely inacurate nursing!, rowdy recovering soldiers testing the patience of a gentlemanly boyfriend!, writing love letters!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-22 11:53:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16597385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissIves/pseuds/MissIves
Summary: In World War One, Sargeant Waters is saved by an stubborn nurse who just won't leave him behind. A field nurse for a couple years, Nurse Stark is used to some brutal hard work by now, but nothing prepared her for the harsh combination of love in times of war.





	1. Gendry I

The initial pain that made him unconscious woke him up again. He couldn’t see much and he could feel soaring pain above his left eye — he remembered before going down the force of an explosion had made him hit his head against something metallic— but mostly he could feel that whatever had happened near his abdomen made him want to scream. So he did.

 

A grunt came out instead.

 

And then grey eyes were looking at him. Like the stormy weather outside, only the sounds of gunfire were far far away.

 

“He’s awake,” she said and went back to look at Gendry’s middle section. A male voice said something about chloroform. 

 

Gendry thought he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything with the pain, but he could see clearly a strand of brown hair falling from her cap. He followed a drop of sweat as it went down the side of her pale skin into the neck of her uniform. His eyes trailed down her blood stained white apron and followed the path of her arm as her hands worked on something. On him. On his bloody gut.

 

The grunt came out a little more desperate this time, painful. Gendry felt the tears and in any other occasion he’d feel self conscious about crying in front of strangers but this hurt too much. He was not even twenty five and he’d die in some field center surrounded by strangers having achieved nothing.

 

And then those stormy eyes were on his again, much softer this time. She turned towards him and smiled. Gendry felt like he hadn’t seen a woman smile in ages. Her fingers were bloody and his were muddy and his belly hurt like a bitch, but all he felt were her fingers holding his palm briefly. “Don’t worry, we’ll help you.”

 

“Don’t tell him that, his only chance is at base hospital.”

 

“We’ll get him there then.” She said as she let go of his hand and went back to working. The pain was getting too much, and Gendry was losing consciousness again. He swore he could feel the gunfire was getting closer...

 

“We shouldn’t even waste the chloroform, he’s gonna be out and he’ll only made it to base if I stitch all of him, else the infection—”

 

“Just shut up and work!” She snapped.

 

_ I like her _ , was the last thought that went through his head.

 

*/*

 

Gendry woke up with a bump. The ambulance jumped and it hurt all over him making him whimper. There was an awful stench, but then again, Gendry was used to foul smell by now. And again, that bloody sound of gunfire. Another bump, another whimper. He tried to move his toes and fingers and was relieved to realise nothing had been amputated. Yet.

 

“Hey there, don’t fret, try to relax and sleep.” There she was again. Sweaty and covered in blood, sitting to his left between bags and boxes. She was pretty. Men said all nurses were pretty with how long them men had been in the front, but Gendry really thought she was pretty. “We’re getting you to the base hospital.”

 

Gendry winced and grunted. He knew how many miles was that. All those bloody miles of a bumpy country road. The nurse saw his discomfort, but he knew she had little resources to help. She ran the back of her hand across her forehead and sat back a little, letting out an exhausted sigh. Would she any other person he’d tell her to try the trenches to experience real exhaustion, but he respected nurses too much to snap at her.

 

“Do I talk or do I keep quiet?” She asked, and he understood quickly she wanted to distract him of his stress somehow. Any other day he’d prefer quietness.

 

But the truth was he wanted to keep hearing her voice. “Talk”, he whispered. 

 

She gave him a forceful grin. “I was kinda hoping you’d pick silence… comforting talk is not my forte.”

 

Gendry attempted some sort of thankful smile. He wanted to ask for her name but he felt too weak to form complete sentences.

 

“You got lucky… the lines are retreating. So many of you came and we had no time to stitch you up properly and send you to base. I’m afraid many will have infections too advanced by the time we get there…” She rested her elbows on her knees, somehow leaning closer to his body, although truly she seemed distracted. “But I tried my best to stitch you up and make sure you got sent to the base, they nearly left you behind but I insisted they cramm you in here with all the leftover supplies, literally on the last ambulance to depart… we had to leave so many behind…”

 

The nurse let her head fall into the palms of her hand, although he could tell she was not crying. Gendry could understand that. Somehow crying becomes something too exhausting after too many atrocities. He’d ask for any of his friends in his division, but he knew she probably didn’t know.

 

He shouldn’t dare too much, but he longed to comfort her somehow, remembering the way she held his hand back there. Gendry reached out and put his left hand on her knee, patting it awkwardly. Her head snapped up in surprise, but she didn’t remove his hand, she just stared at him. Suddenly, Gendry felt warmer than he had felt since the summer before the war began.

A particularly hard bump made them both jump, his hand losing contact with her knee as her body as propelled toward her right. His arm shot up to hold her steady, making him grunt from pain. She fretted all over him to try to make him more comfortable, their moment lost as she went back to nursing a patient. It was a good couple minutes of checking bandages and rearranging the space that passed in complete silence until she sat again.

 

“Thank you, sergeant Waters.” She said as she tried to make herself comfortable. He made an effort to turn his head towards her.

 

“Gendry,” he told her as softly as he could muster, losing his breath a little as a smile formed on her lips. 

 

“Gendry,” she repeated. His name on her voice was soft, almost tender, and it made him smile as well. She looked at her knees nervously as she adjusted her loose strand of hair under her cap. “I’m Arya.”

  
_ Arya _ , he repeated to himself, ignoring the pain on his stomach, and on his head, and all over him. He didn’t even felt  the next bump of the ride.

 

 


	2. Gendry II

Once they reached the base hospital, Arya more or less dumped him at the hands of another nurse as she went on her way. It would've disappointed Gendry if he hadn't being distracted by the sight if so many wounded men, particularly his own captain screaming his lungs out as he held on to the remains of his right leg.

 

Base hospital was not that far better that the centers near the lines. They were better but not that far better. A doctor saw Gendry rather quickly, told him he was lucky to be stitched up to avoid blood loss and infection, and that he would be operated on properly as soon as they ordered the newly arrived men and proper triage was determined

 

“You're lucky you look strong,” an old nurse told Gendry as she accommodated him in a bed, “they don't want to lose strong lads like you.”

 

Gendry would’ve said it would be better if they didn't want to lose anyone, but military doctors had that cold efficiency about them. Save the ones that can be saved, waste your energy on the really good boys.

 

“Ma'am… nurse?”

 

“That's Matron Smallwood for you, sergeant Waters.”

 

“Is there anyway I could, that I could uhm…” Gendry scratched his head in embarrassment, “that I could get Nurse Arya to come here?”

 

Nurse Smallwood frowned at him, obviously bewildered by the fact that he was referring to one of her sisters by her given name. “I'm sure she's got more important things to do than sit here for you to fawn all over her, no matter how sweet you're on each other.”

 

“No, no, no!” Gendry was quick to correct. He wouldn't be punished for any sort of attraction to a nurse, but he knew they were kept under tight supervision and could easily be reprimanded if their behaviour was found lacking. “We're not sweet on each other, she more or less saved my life you see, I wanted to thank her.”

 

“You're not completely safe by the way, so I wouldn't tempt fate.” Nurse Smallwood clarified as she made a turn to leave. “I'll let Sister _Stark_ know you asked for her.”

 

 _Stark_ , he repeated. He had heard that name somewhere, but he couldn't remember where or why it was so familiar.

 

*/*

 

It was a good couple days until he saw her again. Gendry was operated on, and his wound hurt a lot, but he was indeed as strong as the doctor and nurses observed. No grave infection, he healed as he should.

 

The hospital was caos. The soldiers had retracted, the trench had been lost. Now they waited for new plans, as the dead kept piling up. Gendry tried to ignore the stench of the general fear of amputation or death, tried to ignore the sound of bullets that he knew was only in his head, tried to ignore everything while at the same time being cursed with bedrest.

 

He was lying and looking to his side to some soldiers writing when she surprised him.

 

“Good afternoon, sergeant Waters.”

 

His head whipped to the side to catching her smiling as she made to sit. She was in much better shape than last she saw her, her apron clean, her hair tidy in her cap, looking clean and proper. Arya had an energetic smile on her, and Gendry noticed other soldiers noticed her as she fetched herself a chair and sat next to him.

 

“Good afternoon, miss Stark.” He assumed she was unmarried, which wasn’t bold, considering no husband would let their young and healthy wife some to a war zone.

 

Arya rolled her eyes. “Call me Arya, I beg.Or nurse, even. Everyone around here always with their ‘miss’ and ‘sister’.” She beamed as she lifted a package. “I had this package waiting for me! I finally have time to have a proper lunch hour, and I decided to check on you. Have you being fed?”

 

“Yes, that nurse over there fed me.” He nodded at the nurse passing letters and checking bandages. Arya scrunched up her nose.

 

“She’s not really a nurse.”

 

Gendry laughed at that. He wasn’t about to call the poor girl a volunteer. Voluntary aid was still aid in his eyes, especially here in the battlefield. “She helps, doesn’t she?” Arya shrugged and Gendry found himself smiling at her. “What you got there?”

 

“Biscuits from home.” Now it was Gendry’s turn to scrunch up his nose. “Hey now, this is none of that ugly piece of hardwood they call rations, this are custard creams!”

 

“Oh what must a poor soldier do to get one of those?” He tilted his head to the side to appeal to her sympathy, but he found she looked suddenly serious at his question.

 

“Would you answer me a question? With honesty?”

 

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” he promised, and he wanted to add _because_ _you saved my life_. Arya bit her lip, and Gendry couldn’t help himself from focusing on the way her tooth left her lip and color suddenly returned to the skin, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

 

“If… If I hadn't had news of the captain, his whole regiment really, in more than a month… should I—  should I fear the worst?” Her grey eyes shone in earnest as she leaned closer to await his answer. “He has never taken this long in answering my letters.”

 _You’ve been lucky so far,_ was the first thought that came to Gendry’s mind. The second was to kick himself because of course she had some young man promised to her, a pretty young girl like her. His eyes darted to her hand, but he saw no engagement ring. She wouldn’t use it though, he remembered, mayhaps she had it hanging from her neck, but the collar didn’t let him see it.

 

“Not necessarily the worse…” Gendry said, although he didn’t want to give her false hope. Somehow, it seemed to him that Arya prefered brutal honest over sympathetic lies to protect her sensibility. “If you haven’t heard from his regiment then perhaps they’re on some mission.”

 

“So it’s not naive of me to hold on to some hope?” Her hopeful eyes made her look younger, and Gendry wondered how old she was.

 

“I’m sure if he’s dear to you… you’d feel it if your beau was taken from this world, miss, they often say it is that way.” Gendry had seen it in some of his own brothers. At one moment, they’d tell you they had a bad feeling and then a few weeks later they’d get letters with some bad news from home.

 

“Oh Jon is not my beau!” Arya snorted and laughed as she opened the handkerchief that held her biscuits and offered him. Gendry suddenly found himself feeling lighter and happy to eat. “Although as a child I’d often say I wanted to marry him when I grew up, the things little girls say… you see, he’s my brother.”

 

“I see...this are really good biscuits.” Gendry thanked her and she beamed. Suddenly, he felt like there was no war and wounded soldiers around them. Just the two of them sharing a meal.

 

“Old Nan did them, they’re my brother Bran’s favorite.” Arya’s smile turned sad and Gendry hoped this Bran wasn’t a recent dead. “I’m sure she was trying to cheer him up and baked him tons, so she sent me some.”

 

“Is he missing you a lot?”

 

“Probably, although I feel he must mostly feel frustrated his wounds sent him back home. My little brother Rickon misses me, though I tell him to find himself a way to be useful so he can miss Jon and me a little less.”

 

“It’s good to have people missing you home,” Gendry started and, unable to control himself, added bitterly, “it’s better than having no one.”

 

Arya raised her eyebrows. “You have no family back home?”

 

Gendry shrugged. “It’s been that way my whole life miss— Arya. I’m used to it.”

 

“Orphan?”

“All my life.” Last thing Gendry remembered was her crying to the innkeeper that she didn’t want her son to go to the workhouse. Didn’t work but he still valued her wish to avoid him that fate. “Your parents are waiting for you back home?”

 

“I’m an orphan as well,” Arya admitted, and by the way she said it, quick and avoiding his gaze, he knew that unlike his case it was recent.

 

“I’m very sorry.”

 

“Don’t,” Arya tilted her head up, and gave him a shaky smile, “I mean, it was harsh for a while, truly harsh, but things are much better now and me and my siblings are managing it so—  the good things is we’re all together now, so we can keep the boat afloat.”

 

“I’m glad.” Gendry nodded as he offered another biscuit.

 

After that, their conversation was less personal. They exchanged some opinions on plays they both found out they had seen a few years back, as well as the new music that was being played on the music halls — apparently her sister had tortured Arya all her life by forcing her to listen to opera concerts on the records (Gendry was quite shocked to hear they owned a phonograph) and so Arya escaped to hear the popular bands on the music halls since a young age. He found out that Arya was an avid reader of history, and he was ashamed to admit he was hardly barely a reader.

 

They didn’t talk of the war.

 

*/*

 

“Waters!” Gendry stopped checking his ammunition as he turned to see the cook walking by him. The others around him all stopped talking to see if he was in some sort of trouble, since they were all as much nosey hags.

 

“Yes, Hot Pie?” Gendry asked with a grin, making all his mates laugh at the nickname. His name was Ben Heath Plie, but he had introduced himself as H.P., and eventually they all began calling him Hot Pie.

 

Hot Pie gave as good as he got, though, and smiled wickedly as he nodded. “That pretty nurse of yours was asking for you.”

 

“Arya?” Gendry asked among the ‘uuuhh’s’ and ‘aaaah’s’ of the lads. Lem let out an exaggerated sigh while Tom repeated ‘Aaaaaryaaaa’ like some fainting maid.

 

“Yes, your _Arya_.” Hot Pie said mockingly.

 

“She’s Sister Stark for you.” Gendry warned him as he made his way inside the hospital. He found her giving a patient her medicine. The man was badly burnt, and she had to be delicate, so he waiting in silence until she was done.

“Gendry.” She said as she turned. Gendry himself suddenly found the palms of his hands were sweating. He had known all along he’d have to say goodbye around this time of the day, but he didn't know that it would feel so… so much like something he dreaded to do. “Come with me.”

 

She walked with sure steps toward the back of the base hospital, and he made to follow. Arya made him enter to an empty room and Gendry found himself even more nervous than before. “I know you’re leaving and they gave you a last change of dressings but—”

 

“You don’t trust the nurses, I know.”

 

“They’re not actual trained nurses you know? That’s why they call them voluntary aid” Arya clarified as he shook his head. “Anyways, I want to check your dressings are on properly and that she gave you the correct instructions, so…”

 

“So...?”

 

“Take your shirt off.” Arya ordered quickly. But he did not comply quickly, rather his breath was momentarily knocked out of him by her words. Gendry stared at her and he saw in her grey eyes the recognition of how her statement had sounded. He felt his own cheeks redden as the silence broke her professionalism and made her blush as well. “Take your shirt off, Sergeant.”

 

Gendry diligently complied, taking off his uniform piece by piece, until his torso was bare before her. He waited as her eyes roamed over his abdomen, cracking his brain trying to figure out if she bit her lip in sign of admiration or because she was concentrating in her evaluation.

 

“Sit.” Was all she said after a long silence. He did as he was told, and he inhaled loudly when he felt her soft little hands starting to undo his bindings. Last she had seen him this close, she had being sewing his guts close. Now it was different. Now Gendry could feel the warmth of her fingertips as she undid the dressings, cleaned the wound and redid the work. When she had to lean closer to wrap the bandage around his waist, he got a sniff of her scent. It was earthy, and salty, as if she had spent the day lounging in the sand by the sea. He felt her breath on his skin as her arms went around him to pass the linen, and he wondered why did he shiver when he hadn't felt this hot since his last fever. Part of him wanted to close his eyes, but he didn’t want to stop looking at the shape of her head  she bent to work on caring for him.

 

Her eyelashes were long and dark, he noticed. And she had some freckles in her nose.

 

She kept biting that damn lip, even as she looked up at him and whispered softly: “You’re all done.”

 

He truly was.

 

“Arya, I was wondering if— “ the words died in his mouth. _What had he been wondering?_

 

“Sister Stark? Has anyone seen Sister Stark?” A voice from outside called, and Arya went from looking at him all soft and caring to her mask of professionalism. She turned to the door and went outside, leaving it ajar to give him some privacy as he dressed himself.

 

Gendry cursed himself as he heard Arya ask what was it they needed her for.

 

“Mail came, this one was for you. I know you’ve been waiting for a letter from quite some time so I looked for you and give it as soon as possible.”

 

“Oh, thank you so much.”

 

Gendry finished dressing himself and went outside to find he waiting on the opposite wall.

 

“Are you ready?” he nodded in affirmation. “Good, I think you lads are about to leave soon. They’ll have some of us packing soon enough.”

 

They walked back in silence and he peeked at the unopened letter in her hand. He recognized them envelope and the stamp. “Is that from—”.

 

“It’s not in Jon’s hand.” Arya’s voice came out in a broken whisper as she looked at her feet.

 

“Hey, hey, wait.” Gendry’s hand reached out to her shoulder to stop her. She turned to him and he saw the unshed tears in her eyes. He couldn’t handle it, he’d do anything to keep those tears from falling. Arya was not a person he could handle seeing crying. He had to do something to comfort her, she had saved his life. “That doesn’t necessarily mean bad news.”

 

Arya gave him a mean stare. “Do you think— ,” she shook her head and breathed sharply, “listen, I can’t— I just can’t open it, I’ve received this type of letter before and I—” she held her trembling hand up and he took the shaking letter.

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“If I’ll have to find out eventually… I rather it be with a friend by my side.”

 

Gendry smiled sadly at her. He ripped open the envelope and read the words. “It’s from a nurse true, but she says she writes because your brother has being in and out of consciousness… He’s expected to make a full recovery, but he mentioned you whenever he as awake and they found your correspondence among his belongings. She decided to write to you—”

 

His reading was cut short by an squeal of excitement as her hand held his firmly as the other hid her laughter. Arya’s tears fell but they were tears of joy. “Oh Gendry, I’m so relieved. Thank you so much!”

 

He hadn't really done much of anything, but he wasn’t about to deny the pleasure of the sweet squeeze of her hand on his. “I’m happy for you.”

 

“I— “

 

“Waters!” They both turned to see Lem lifting an eyebrow. “We’re leaving!”

 

“In a minute,” Gendry turned to her and was glad his memory of her would be her face beaming with happiness, “do you think we could uhm…”

 

“I'll write to you, I will!” Arya swore, still smiling. “We’re friends, I’ll want to know how you’re getting on.”

 

“Me too, I… I really…” Gendry once again cursed his lack of words. It as strange. He had never had anyone to write to, and now suddenly, it felt like writing wouldn’t be enough.

 

“Waters!”

 

“You have to go, I’ll promise I’ll write, go now and be safe!” Arya nodded as she let go of him. “Take good care of those dressings, do everything he nurse told you and have it checked if you have a fever.”

 

Gendry started walking away, turning to ask her to take care of herself. He left her standing there, smiling, in a deserted hallway of the base hospital.

 

The next weeks would be gruelling, but the prospect of her letter kept him optimistic.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Excuse any typos or mistakes, Reviews make the author happy :)
> 
> BTW, two clarifications. First, I also hope I don't insult any medical practicioners out there by insulting army doctors. I know any doctor tries to save as much patients as he can, but of course, war requires a certain prioritazion and efficiency that can be hard for the doctors themselves. Second, I hope Arya's assesment of the VAD nurses (not the same as military/army nurses which is what she is) is not offensive to anyone. It is sadly quite realistic... VAD nurses were given tasks more in the lines of washing and helping the soldiers be comfortable rather than more serious patient caring which was the duty of a more fully trained nurse, which in no way diminishes the hard labor VAD nurses did, it just means the trained nurses fought to be treated with differentiation in accordance to their studies. (For those fans of Downton Abbey, Sybil Crawley was a VAD nurse, hence why she was seen mostly changing beddings and serving drinks to soldiers in rehabilitation)
> 
> Next chapter will contain some letters, for the romantics out there!


	3. Arya I

_Dear Gendry,_

 

_I hope this letter finds you well. I seem to recall you telling me you were from the south and weren't used to this cold. I don't know if I told you this but I'm northerner born and bred, of course I'm enjoying the snow._

 

_You'll be glad for me; I received a letter from Jon last week! His regiment was on some sort of especial mission, and he could not write,and then he was hurt and couldn't stay up long enough to dictate a letter. He's getting better by now._

 

_We heard news of some of your movement, and I hope during your march you find it in yourself to give a good look of the God's Eye. It's sad that you're seeing it this way but I find the view of the lake to be quite gorgeous._

 

_I got some biscuits again, but I didn't dare send them in case they were “mysteriously confiscated” or lost. So we will have to share them next time we see each other. My unit is being moved a bit further east, to follow the twenty seventh and twenty eight regiments. Please keep checking your stitches, and remember to approach your medic if you develop any fever or itchiness in the area._

 

_Keep safe,_

_Arya._

 

*/*

 

_Dear Arya,_

 

_I don't share your happiness about the snow. It's wet and humid and makes everything from my hair to my socks damp. Not to mention it makes it more difficult to march. Which we have thankfully stopped doing. We arrived to the trench two days ago and I immediately went to a nurse in the clearing station to have the stitches checked, she deemed everything in order._

 

_Sadly, it was cloudy and dark by the time we passed the God's Eye. Many others were longing to see it, but it looked somber and there's no moon to reflect in the water._

 

_I'm sad to have missed those biscuits, you northerners seem to be experts on the subject of cooking. As you say, it will be for the next time._

 

_I hope your brothers and sisters are well, I am so glad your Jon is on the road to recovery… I hope you take good care of yourself as well, get enough sleep. Things are calm here and we've gotten plenty chances for a nap, which can only mean there's nothing good brewing…_

 

_Keep safe,_

_Gendry_

 

*/*

 

Arya did not know. Because of course, they were told nothing too informative. She heard it much later, when she was on her way to it, that she was going to  Harrenhal and would therefore meet Gendry. She bit her lip.

 

Arya had tended to hundreds of soldiers. And not just during the war but before as well during her training. Of course, she remembered significant cases, some patients touched you more than others. And yet… never before had she being able to remember the very detail of a patient's eyes the way she remembered Gendry's.

 

_Stupid_ , she told herself, this was just her reading too much of Sansa's letters. Her sister was a hopeless romantic, and ever since she started volunteering in rehabilitation centers she had become obsessed with stories about nurses and soldiers. Nevermind the fact that _actual_ nurse were forbidden from any unladylike behavior.

 

Gendry was just a friend, the way Mycah had been once. Her heart ached when she remembered her friend. He was gone too soon, barely months after the war began. Two months after that, a bullet had settled into Bran's spine. Arya could only thank that her mother had not lived to see that.

 

Arya arrived to their base hospital with more hope than usual. It was Harrenhal's own hospital, although old it had been functioning before the war so it was not the abandoned fabric or school or hotel. She set to work in preparing all the beds and medicines, keeping stock and teaching the nurses under her command what to do and not to do. Things were too quiet, which meant no good. She thought about finding a way to tell someone in the clearing station near the trenches to have a message delivered to Gendry, but it was stupid. The people had better things to do than that.

 

_Little sister, I'm so sorry for being the cause of such a concern. You must know better than me that head wounds require a lot of sleep and don't give one enough time to sit and write._

 

_Turns out the woman who wrote to you was no nurse at all, but a local named Ygritte who had taken up fighting—_

 

Her reading was interrupted by the sound of approaching gunfire.

 

“What in Seven Hells?” Arya asked to no one in particular as she ran to the nearest window facing east. On the horizon was the smoke and distant gas. _Oh no_...

 

There were soldiers running towards the hospital. Their soldiers. Which could only mean one thing. Not that far from there, the enemy was getting closer.

 

Arya ran down the stairs to the first floor to Matron Smallwood, and asked for orders. If Arya knew anything, it was that in times like this you follow instructions as best as you could.

 

*/*

 

She didn’t know how many hours have passed. The soldiers had barricaded themselves on the front of the hospital, and the sound of exchanging gunfire had being constant. At first their job had being to transport as many patients as possible towards the back of the hospital, while others filled transports with essential equipment bound to west if the hospital was lost. After a couple hours however, mortars and artillery had destroyed a large section of the north eastern wall, which meant they were now meant to rescue and help those wounded, and on top of it all, men were using the new hole in the wall to enter and seek medical help as soon as they got hurt. Everything was a mix of blood and dust, everyone wearing their gas mask and shouting and screaming.

 

“Nurse—” A man holding his lifeless bloody arm approached  her in despair.

 

“Not here soldier, towards the back!” Arya shouted. The nurse with her, technically under her command made for the soldier, but Arya stopped her. “You’ll do him no good tending to him here where they can come gun us down any minute, help me move this men!”

 

Triage was something they all eventually learned to do, not just the doctors. Arya knew which were far too gone to bother helping and which one just needed some help to get to the back and could be saved later. It didn’t make the job easier, and she saw in his eyes their despair when, after checking their wounds, she’d silently move on to the next men.

 

Back and forth, her day was spent quickly assessing damage and then helping men towards the back then back to the front again. She did not let fear overtake her, even when her sisters screamed of their lines retreating closer and closer to the hospital, losing ground.

 

“What if they don’t get us out!”

 

“What if they throw us a new type of gas? My gas mask is over a year old!”

 

Their forces were fewer, but they fought hard. Through the night, Arya kept hearing artillery as slowly but steady medical personnel moved everything and everyone towards the back. She kept telling herself that as long as she heard mortars and rifles there was hope, and she’d not panic until she heard handguns being used. She was exhausted, so tired that she wasn’t hungry or thirsty, and she kept pushing herself despite the pain in the feet or her neck. The only good thing about the excessive activity was that no one was cold, except for the truly sick.

 

Somewhere near sunrise, the sound of gunfire decreased. By mid-morning, Arya assumed they had won, as she saw higher officials pass by with less somber looks.  When it was announced that they wouldn’t have to abandon the hospital, they all cheered and then promptly went back to their work. Soldiers would have to pitch their tents outside and cooking would have to begin, while any parts of the hospital that could be used would have to be cleaned and repaired.

 

The downside of the lack of gunfire sounds was that now Arya could hear the suffering of men around her loud and clear, grunts and screams and cries. She had gotten used to the stench of piss and blood and sweat, she could handle the dirtiness of it all rather well. But there was something about the sounds of hundreds of men in pain begging for help that made her feel so hopeless and small, like a scared little mouse.

 

Arya did not care how safe it was, she ran outside even thought she could hear someone calling her name. She went past their vehicles, into a more secluded zone and stood there staring at the vast winter countryside as she took off her cap, her collar, her cuff and cape. They all landed on the frosty grass as Arya stared ahead, helpless at the monotony following a night of destruction. The winter sun was high and she was taking big gulps of air when she heard footsteps.

 

“Arya?” She turned to find Gendry staring in bewilderment. Arya looked down and found her uniform was dirty with several blood stains, her hands similarly tainted and her boots covered in dust. When she looked up, Arya found Gendry fixated on some point near her neck.

 

“I’m so glad you’re sa—”

 

“Your hair is so short.” He interrupted her with something between an exclamation and a whisper. Arya’s hands immediately flew to her hair. She had no waterfall of curls like Sansa, hair combed up to display them. Her sister usually called Arya’s short curls “a modern rebellion for women who shout in the streets demanding the vote”. Which is what Arya did so it was fitting.

 

“Well I… uhm..” she let out a nervous laugh and bent to pick her discarded uniform. She took her cuffs, collar and cap with ease, and then her hand made contact with  pair of large warm hands as Gendry took hold of her cape. Arya’s eyes flew to his, and though she had eaten nothing all day, she could swear something in her stomach was moving around when she locked her eyes with his icy blue ones. It was strange, for while his eyes were like blue ice she could swear they were warm.

 

They stood up together, both holding on to her cape. Arya knew she could not dress herself properly with both hand busy, so she let go and offered her cap and collar as well. “Please?”

 

Why was she so out of breath?

 

Gendry cleared his throat. “Sure”, he said as he took her belongings and took a step back. Arya put her cuffs with care. Gendry silently offered her collar and Arya covered her neck quickly, suddenly aware of the weight of his stare. Her hands were trembling as she took her cap from him and adjusted it above her hair. Gendry stepped forward with her cape open. “May I?”

 

Arya was supposed to tell him she could do it on her own, but all that came out was a nod. She stood frozen still as his arms came around her, feeling the warmth of the cape as he out it above her shoulder and wrapped it around her. She thought she’d have to clasp it, but he did it with surprising ease. His hands lingered on her cape and Arya could not stop look up from where her stare was fixed; her eyes came up to his chest and so she only focused on his sturdy body. His left hand travelled to her shoulder as her own hands went to his arms. His uniform was as covered in blood as hers, and her fingers would stain even more, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care about the cold or the hunger or her responsibilities.

 

Gendry’s fingers took a hold of her chin, and Arya inhaled sharply at his touch. She blushed as his fingers tilted her head up and she found her face so close to his. Whatever she had felt earlier, the fluttering in her stomach, the shivering of her suddenly too warm skin, all disappeared as his lips got closer and closer…

 

The loud sound of a motor made them both look up. It was above the hospital, circling it from a not so above distance. Arya frowned. “A scout.”

 

“We should get inside.” Gendry said and blushed as he stepped back. He made no comment on their recent closeness. Arya would rather not confess how much she wanted to be closer still. The thought made her blush and she berated herself for her foolishness. _I have truly become my sister_.

 

Arya stomped on the way back, and would have gladly walked far ahead if a concern wasn’t so present in her mind. “You’re not hurt, aren’t you?”

 

“No, no… I uh… got lucky. You?”

 

“Perfect.” She lied. Arya hurt all over, from her feet to her arms to her back, but it was nothing sleep and proper rest wouldn’t fix.

 

Gendry walked faster and was suddenly besides her, silent as ever. Arya’s hand became fists and then got loose, and then became fists again. She wasn’t angry, not really, though a part of her felt like she had being angry. Angry at the damn scout.

 

Their stomachs grumbled at the same time. They stopped and stared at each other. Something bubbled inside of her at the embarrassment in his face. She shouldn’t have bursted into laughter, truly shouldn’t, but she couldn’t help herself. Laughter came out of her as her body relieved itself of a whole night’s worth of tension. Gendry, she noticed, was smiling as he rubbed his belly.

 

“You think they will give us food soon?”

 

“Food was being prepared before I left the building, and rations were supposed to be handed around soon.”

 

Gendry nodded and whistled in contentment. Food always made everyone happier. “Would you like to go find some breakfast with me?”

 

Arya nodded happily. Starting a new day with him made her feel much lighter.

 

 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excuse any typos or mistakes, remember! reviews make the author want to write more!


	4. Gendry III

_ Dear Arya, _

 

_ I was relieved when I read your last letter telling me they had stationed you in a base hospital away from the lines. You seem very competent in helping near the trenches, but I hope you don't despise me from worrying about your safety. Is more and more common for them to use gas against care centers. _

 

_ I know you must feel frustrated to be stuck in Acorn Hall, but I hope you at least get to enjoy the nature's rivers, forest and caves.  I grew up in a busy port city next to the sea, and I always feel like watching ships come was our only form of relaxation. In my eyes, the countryside is relaxing and fun. _

 

_ They have given me leave to go home for 10 days. The truth is I'd hate to spend two of those days having to travel only to visit the two friends there who are not serving. I was wondering if you'd care to spend some time with me if I go visit Acorn Hall, you'd be doing me a favor. _

 

_ I await your answer, _

_ Gendry. _

 

*/*

 

_ Dear Gendry, _

 

_ I hate being stuck here. It is endless hours of evaluating who goes home and who doesn't, fixing messes done by quick work on the clearing stations or the trenches. It's important work, but monotonous. _

 

_ The countryside is great of course, but I grew up in the country. And I must say, I much prefer Winterfell's deep forest and icy lakes over this. I guess I am just too much of a northerner. _

 

_ As for what you ask, it is not a favor at all! I will welcome the distraction… I can't wait to see you! _

 

_ Sincerely, _

_ Arya. _

  * ··



*/*

 

The hospital in Acorn Hall was big and much calmer than the ones Gendry had visited before. It was one of the parts of the country that had not yet being touched by war beyond the usual rationing and loss of men, but Acorn Hall still functioned as a normal town. As he approached the hospital he saw some young girls checking out his uniform and giggling to each other.

 

Gendry smirked to himself and ran a hand through his hair. The hospital had a makeshift map at the entrance to guide people, but he could not, for the live of him, understand it.

 

“It was made by women, for women to make sense of it.” A voice (that he had heard in dreams far more than he’d like to admit) said from somewhere behind him.

 

“I guess it’s hopeless of me to try to understand it then.” He answered as he eagerly turned.

 

Arya was not in her uniform.

 

She was the prettiest sight Gendry had ever seen. Her clothes were pragmatic, but clean and ironed, and her short hair had no hat to adornate it, just those pretty curls at the end.

 

“You just showed up on my one half day off of the week.” She smiled as she adjusted her skirt. Gendry took off his cap in a hurry.

 

“I was lucky.”

 

“We’re all lucky to be alive if you ask me,” Arya approached him as she looked up, “we got lucky with the weather too.”

 

He was about to offer his hand to shake but she surprised him with a kiss on the cheek. Gendry was stuck cold, feeling the warmth of her lips spread from his cheek to the rest of his body. He could’ve sworn she made it last too, because in his mind the seconds it took her to take a step back felt more like years. He noticed the blush in her skin, the freckles along her nose, those damn dark eyelashes fluttering.

 

Gendry did not want her to step away. His mouth was dry and he wondered when the hell sis he get so thirsty.

 

“I uh— Hello.”

 

“Hi, miss— Arya.” He coughed a little to cover up his lack of breath. Arya was fidgeting with the collar of her blouse, but frowned at his words.

 

“Don’t call me miss, sergeant.”

 

“So… you’re done for the day then?”

 

“Basically,” Arya shrugged, “we get half a day off when things are calm. Fancy a walk near around the square?”

 

“Of course,” he nearly jumped so he could walk by her side, “it seems you’re not enjoying the quietness of work here.”

 

Arya smiled, “I’m not much for quietness and calmness.”

 

Gendry knew a mischievous smile when he saw one. “I bet you made such a ruckus as a child…”

 

Arya laughed wholeheartedly, her eyes wistfully looking to the kids playing. “I gave our nanny gray hair, that’s for sure. Always running around the manor.”

 

“Manor?” Gendry felt something heavy in his stomach. He had noticed she was posh long ago, what with her perfect calligraphy and love of reading, but he knew the time had come to ask what he had being dreading to ask. “You’re not, I mean, I know your name is Arya Stark, and you’re a northerner but you’re not actually…”

 

“I am, actually, a Stark of Winterfell. ” As if preparing herself for the infamy of the name, she turned to him and raised an eyebrow. “Second daughter to lord Eddard Stark.”

 

They stopped their walking as she looked up at him, tilting her chin up. Surely thinking his mind was bothering itself with the story of her infamous family, but his thoughts were elsewhere. Gendry had grew up in an orphanage, later, a school for the poor and later, a workhouse until he found steady job. He had no shame of his trade, and he looked forward to learning more after the war ended, confident that motors were the way of the future. Yet he had noticed…

 

He did not bear himself the way she did. Gendry was humble, and hardworking, and he knew himself as such. Arya was something else entirely, it was present in the firmness of her steps, in the strength of her speech. At first, he had thought it was the fact that she was naturally fiercer than other well mannered women. Then he thought she had being hardened by war. Now he realised it was none of that. It was pride. It was privilege. It was nobility.

 

“I’m sorry, m’lady.” Gendry took a step back hurriedly, looking at his shoes. “If I had know—”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous!” He felt a (surprisingly hard) punch to his arm and looked up to see Arya downright angry at him, her gloved hand a tight fist. “I didn’t want you calling me Miss, would I want you calling me Lady?”

 

“Sorry, Miss— I mean, Arya.”

 

“Listen,” her hand were up to her hips, and he guessed she was trying to look threatening, but she just looked adorable, “you need to stop acting weird. Do not call me ‘lady’. Treat me like you would any nurse.”

 

“Are you commanding me to do so, m’lady?” Gendry teased, and her frown softened. Arya crossed her arms and looked at the square, her eyes lost somewhere across from them where people did their selling and shopping. Many women and children, few men.

 

“Maybe. I often think men should do as women said, regardless of class.”

 

“Is that so, m’lady?”

 

“You don’t think any woman would feel the same way?” Arya turned her sharp eyes on him. If she was truly upset, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t know her that well yet. And she was a  _ lady _ .

 

“I don’t think any common women would find that your gender should grant you superiority, m’ lady, I think them to be rather more humble.” It was what he thought, and lady or not, he’d be honest with her. 

 

“Will you stop with the m’lady?” Arya uncrossed her arms as she scoffed. “I can tell you one thing for sure, all men are just as stubborn, no matter their birth!”

 

Arya walked towards the fountain and sat on its edge. The winter sun illuminated her enough for him to notice her hair was not as dark a brown as he believed. Gendry couldn’t take his eyes from her as she took her her left glove and guided her hand to the water, playing with it and ignoring him. Surely the fountain’s waters were extremely cold, but she did not flinch. The cold breeze made her little curls move, and he smiled when she turned her head further away from him because it gave him ample view of the side of her neck.

 

Were she  _ his _ lady, he’d kiss her right there where her neck met her face, nevermind the fact that they were in public, that there was a war going on, that she was not meant for a lad like him.

 

Gendry exhaled and put his cap on, walking towards her as he carefully planned what he’d say to her. Arya turned to see him as he approached, and remained silent as he sat next to her, their body turned towards each other. Gendry prepared himself by seeing her hand play with the water.

 

Suddenly, a burst of laugh made him look up. Arya did not laugh like a mild mannered lady, covering her mouth with her hand. She threw her head back and actually rubbed her belly.

 

“What?” Was she mocking him?

 

“Your face—, I’m sorry I can tell you’re thinking hard about what you’re going to say but, your face,” she calmed herself a bit and let out a tiny giggle, “it looks as if you’re as much in pain as the day I met you.”

 

“Well, then you know I’m thinking hard about what I will say next.” Gendry let out a breath and braced himself. Arya had being a beautiful distraction the last weeks, but he knew his place, and a lifetime of pain and abandonment made him want to avoid what would only be a tortuous path from him. As if she could read his thoughts, Arya remained silent and serious, even though he could not see her as he was focused in the water. “Listen, I know you’re an orphan, and maybe this means you have no lordly father and respectful mother to restrict you, but you must know… That my intentions… Well, that I have no business being friends with a lady. It would only end in disaster.”

 

Disaster because he was already far more smitten than his good conscience should permit.

 

Arya shook her head, and those damn curls of her moved along. “Gendry?”

 

The way she said his name, so softly, almost tenderly, made him look at her. Her eyes, which were always so stormy, so fierce, so sharp, now seemed completely different. He couldn’t find words to describe how, they just were. 

 

“Yes, Arya?”

 

Her name came out unbidden from his lips. The sound of the splashing water only served to make the silence between them more noticeable. She had taken her hand away from the water and was attempting to dry it with her skirt. It was her turn now, to prepare her words carefully.

 

“After my father’s trial… after his death… Everything changed in my family.” Arya took in a deep breath, and he knew, he just knew, that she never talked about this to anyone. “We were so alone, and things only got worse… no one to help us, choking on the lies being spread by everyone, and then mother died, and my brothers were imprisoned, and we lost Winterfell, and we were all separated... those were the worst years of my life, worse than this wretched war.” Arya sniffled sharply. “What I’m saying is… The ones I have left, we’re together now, the ones of age we have jobs like normal people, and we couldn’t care less about the things that are worrying your mind, we all made friendships we shouldn’t have, we survived that way, we—”

 

A tear ran down her cheek and she cleaned it quickly, her hand falling to her lap awkwardly. Something pressed deep in Gendry’s chest as he looked at her ungloved hand rest there. He hadn’t meant to accuse her of not enough suffering. She was there in the same war he was, she had already more unpleasantness in her life that he wished on anyone. He had only meant that she was too far above him for Gendry to allow himself to feel—.

 

And well, that was the problem. He had not told her at all how he felt. Oh but that was something even he did not know. But what the mind and the carefully prepared words could not express, the instinct did all on its own.

 

Gendry took her hand in his in one swift movement. Her hand was a soft little thing compared to his. Perhaps not a polished perfect lady’s hand, but more than enough for his. The words that came out of him were rushed and unplanned, but honest.

 

“I wish to be the very best friend you ever had.”  _ And much more _ . But Gendry did not need to say it, because he was looking at her, and she was smiling, and oh he could tell Arya understood perfectly. Because she already felt like to closest thing to a friend, more than anyone else he had ever met. She had saved his life.

 

“Then like a good friend, trust my word, nothing hinders that from happening.”

 

Arya’s smile was comforting, sweet even, and it made her look so beautiful Gendry wondered how could he keep quiet about how much he did not want to be just her friend. Not when her lips looked so soft, and she was so close, and her hand was clasped in his. But words died in his mouth as she blushed and broke their gaze, deciding to look at the scenery around them instead. Biting that damn lip.

 

A smile formed in Gendry’s lips. For all her shyness, she didn’t take her hand away from his.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for taking so long to update! Blame finals. Thankfully I passed everything with decent-togood grades lol. As always, excuse any typos or mistakes. 
> 
> Sorry if it seems like everything goes slow with these two, but it's the 1910s!!! It's already kind of unrealistic that a lady and a lowerclass boy would even be friends lol. As for Arya's story (& the Starks), more will be revealed in the future. I don't know if it's clear or not, but while Gendry is clearly infatuated and in full Florence Nightingale Effect (although he's a guarded person so he's not reciting poetry or anything), Arya is obviously much more cautious (also, it wasn't much tolerated in reality, women were supposed to be caretakers not go to find husbands) and is obviously closed off too. So it's baby steps, but you know, romantic baby steps ;)
> 
> Please review! Next up: Gendry learns a bit more about Arya's day to day activities, more meal sharing, and OH HAND HOLDING AGAIN :D

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be short but I do this in hope of updating often :) Tell me what you thought of this first meeting! Please excuse any typos or mistakes, let me know tho, to correct them ;)
> 
> BTW, there's no "character death" on the tag and it's for a reason ;) I wanted to write some romance not some tragedy.


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